


The *Almost* Perfect Nanny

by AliceSloane13



Category: Mary Poppins (Movies)
Genre: a little fluff and nonsense, jane banks is perfect, you cannot convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceSloane13/pseuds/AliceSloane13
Summary: When John turns to his aunt for advice, Mary discovers a lot about Jane and even more about herself.





	The *Almost* Perfect Nanny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PLuieSounds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLuieSounds/gifts).



> I struggled just a little bit with how to write this. With Mary knowing Jane as both a child and as an adult, finding the right balance between them isn't easy for me. I hope I pulled it off!
> 
> Also, a huge Happy Birthday to PLuieSounds! Who has listened to me ramble about Emily Mortimer for weeks now, and has patiently waited for me to knock it off and get over this obsession.

Mary Poppins did not lose things. She did not misplace them, either. She kept her belongings where they were supposed to be at all times. A place for everything and everything in its place. It was simple. When you moved around as much as she did it was necessary. Thankfully, her bag held everything she needed with plenty of room to spare. After all, there should at least be some perks to her job.

So how had it been that two decades had passed and she’d missed the fact that she had been carrying around extra baggage? Extra baggage of the worst kind. Emotions weighed far more than luggage every could.

* * *

 

“You know you can always come to me with anything, but she’s a good person to talk to, John,” Jane said, rubbing a hand on his back. “Even if you don’t get the response you think you want. She has a way of giving you what you need.” Her voice trailed off into something sad and distant.

“Aunt Jane?” John asked, looking up at her. It wasn’t often that he saw his aunt so distracted and quiet.

She shook her head and smiled. “It’s nothing.”

“You can talk to me too,” he said, bumping his shoulder against hers.

Jane nodded and laughed, always amused to see her niece and nephew’s showing such maturity. It wasn’t just because of Kate’s death. Though, of course, that had taken its toll. They had always been smart and kind and eager to help anyone. “I know, John. Thank you. I was just thinking about the past...”

“When she was your nanny?” They still hadn’t talked about that. Aside from Jane saying that she and Michael had imagined so many things about their time with Mary Poppins. It was something he wanted to readdress, but this wasn’t the right time.

Biting her lip, Jane nodded. “After she left, I used to write her letters all the time. Anytime something exciting happened or when I was sad or just needed someone to open up to.”

“And did she help?”

Jane looked down at her lap and swallowed hard. “In her own way.” While Mary Poppin’s silence had hurt her, she knew it was supposed to help her move on. There was no sense in dragging out a painful goodbye or making promises she knew couldn’t be kept. “I actually only gave her the one before she left. When she wasn’t looking, I tucked it in her bag. After that, it was mostly more like a journal that I addressed to her. It was comforting, and somehow I always felt like I had the right answers when I was finished.”

“She never wrote back?” he asked, brow furrowing in frustration. That didn’t seem like a very nice thing to do. Especially considering how much his aunt obviously adored Mary Poppins. She thought they didn’t notice, but she always got so excited by Mary’s presence and the stories the kids told her about their adventures. John was quite certain that even though his father seemed to have forgotten about the balloons his aunt hadn’t.

“No,” Jane said quietly. She looked up at him and smiled. “I’m sure she was just busy. She was headed to a new house by then. She’s here for you now, though. Don’t be afraid to talk to her.”

John squared off his shoulders, something he thought made him seem older and wiser. “Maybe she didn’t get your letter? Her bag is awfully big.”

“Maybe,” Jane said with a small giggle, thinking back to the jaw-dropping experience of Mary pulling out all sorts of things from the small bag.

* * *

 

It had been a slip of the tongue on Jane’s part–apparently lost in her own nostalgia. Mary doubted Jane even realized she’d drifted so far into the past. It wasn’t something she thought Jane would discuss so openly with her nephew–or at all. And she was certain Jane didn’t know that she had heard (possibly because she’d been hovering outside the doorway and never made her presence known). But she had heard exactly what Jane had said.

And so, upstairs she went, and after digging through her bag for several moments, she found the item in question. A small envelope with her name scribbled across the front in a child’s handwriting. Not just any child’s, but Jane’s. She would recognize the crooked letters and rushed writing anywhere. She’d never had much patience for practicing handwriting. A trait Mary noticed that her niece had picked up as well.

Sitting on her bed, brow furrowed in uncertainty, Mary held the letter on her lap and stared at it. She’d been staring at it for the past five minutes. She wasn’t sure how she had overlooked it for so long, but the more pressing confusion was what was inside. And what had Jane been telling her over the years? Offhandedly, she wondered if the young woman still had the rest of the letters.

“Well, open it,” Cecil said, snapping her out of her haze. His wooden eyes widened at the way she jumped at his voice. Another thing Mary Poppins did not do was startle easily.

Mary cut her eyes at the parrot head of her umbrella and let out a steady breath. “I plan on it,” she said with a cool even tone that did nothing to hide the fact that she was rattled. She didn’t know why she was hesitating. She didn’t know why this entire situation had her so unnerved. She did not do unnerved.

After another moment Cecil sighed dramatically.

She shook her head at him, pursed her lips, and turned the envelop over in her hands. With a quick movement, she slid her finger beneath the flap and opened it. No point in delaying it further, she thought. Knowing full well that what she really meant was that if she didn’t move quickly, she would begin to hesitate once more. Inside, Mary found two sheets of paper folded neatly and tied with a pale blue hair ribbon.

* * *

 

_Mary Poppins,_

_It seems only right for me to tell you upfront that I’m very upset with you. I know you’re leaving. You haven’t told us yet, neither have father or mother, but you’re not as good at hiding things as you think you are. Or at least, I don’t think you are. You say things all the time that sound one way but mean another. It’s confusing, and Michael doesn’t notice it–or father–but I do. I don’t always know what it means, but I do know that I should start paying more attention to what you’re not saying. Especially in those moments._

_I don’t think you’ve ever lied to us, but you don’t always tell us the whole truth either. Do you think that’s the same thing as a lie? Keeping something to yourself that you know might hurt or upset people? When is it okay to hide the truth? When it’s about yourself? When you’re scared? I wonder sometimes… I wish you would be here just a little longer. There are so many things I want to ask you._

_Everything is changing at home, and it started when you got here. I can’t help but feel like this means you’re going away soon. I wish you wouldn’t. Everyone is happier–except you. I wish you were happier too. I wish we could make you happier._

_It must be very tiresome to not have a home. You’re probably going to stay with another family. Maybe you’re going to help them like you helped us. Maybe they need you more than we do. I promise you though, they won’t want you more. No one could want you more than we do. I don’t want you to leave, but I know that there’s nothing I can say that would change your mind. It’s not fair. We love you so much. I love you so much._

_I know I shouldn’t say it, but sometimes I wish you would take me with you. I know that’s horrible to say, especially since Father is trying so hard and Mother would miss me terribly. I think Michael would be okay though. I would miss him, but I don’t want to miss you. You’re going to leave here and never look back, and that hurts. It hurts so very much. You are my favorite person, and I don’t even know if you like me. I think you do. I hope you do. But then how can you leave us so easily? (I know I shouldn’t start a sentence with “but”, BUT if you’re not staying then you don’t get to scold me)._

_I want to say more, but it’s Tuesday, and I want to get it into your bag before you get back. I’m sorry ahead of time for touching your things without permission. I think it’s the only way. I just wanted to make sure that I said goodbye properly because I know that it’s going to get harder to do in person._

_I’m going to be sad. I’m going to want you to stay. I’ll probably try and beg you to stay. I’m going to try very hard not to, but… I’m not okay. This is going to hurt, and I’m trying not to hate you for it. I know that’s spiteful and terrible, but I don’t know how else to feel._

_Please come back to us one day. I imagine you’ve helped a lot of families and will probably help a lot more. Please don’t forget me. I know that I will never forget you. You probably think I’m just being a silly child, but I don’t think I will ever love anyone the way I love you._

_Devotedly Yours,_

_Jane Banks_

_P.S. I’m also putting in a drawing of Michael’s. It’s of the three of us with Burt (in case you can’t tell). He says he wants to be an artist when he grows up, but I’m not sure he’s very good at it yet. He doesn’t know I took it, but I needed to give you something to help you remember._

* * *

 

Mary knew she was crying. She didn’t care. She opened the drawing of Michael’s and smiled at the childlike drawing of them all. She had always been sad when she’d had to leave children, and she knew children were sad to see her go. Nothing had been like this though. Nothing had stung the way Jane’s innocent words did. All this time and she’d never known.

She knew she couldn’t have checked on Jane over the years. It wasn’t how things worked. However, knowing that Jane had wanted her to so badly made her wish that she had known. She should have been carrying around that pain with her all these years instead of letting Jane carry it alone.

It wouldn’t have made a difference either way, but Mary felt terrible. They were supposed to forget her. They were supposed to move on. She was just supposed to be a blot in their memories of a time when things shifted into something better.

Closing her eyes, she could hear the very first words Jane Banks had said to her as an adult. _“You came back. I thought we’d never see you again.”_ Hanging her head, Mary played the moment over and over allowing herself to discover every detail. Jane’s shocked face. Jane’s earnest and hopeful eyes. The crack in her voice as the emotion threatened to spill out. Even the small tremble of fear that she was about to be heartbroken. Mary had seen Jane hold back. She’d seen Jane making excuses to keep a distance. She had just assumed that it was because she was older. She didn’t realize it was because she was still so hurt and a little bit scared.

“Before I left, she asked if I loved them,” Mary murmured. She’d gone through that moment with more children than she cared to count, but she always gave the same answer. “I should have told her.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Cecil said knowingly. Of course, he’d been there that day. He remembered it clearly, probably better than she did. If he had more feelings and less snark, he might have felt remorse for his words that day. Instead, he just felt bad because she looked sad. It didn’t stop him from speaking his mind, though.

* * *

 

_“That’s gratitude for you. Didn’t even say goodbye.”_

_“No, they didn’t.”_

_“Look at them. You know, they think more of their father than they do of you.”_

_“That’s as it should be.”_

_“Well, don’t you care?”_

_“Practically perfect people never permit sentiment to muddle their thinking.”_

_“Is that so? Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Mary Poppins, you don’t fool me a bit.”_

_“Oh, really?”_

_“Yes, really. I know exactly how you feel about these children. And if you think I’m going to keep my mouth shut any longer, I-”_

* * *

 

“Jane would have known,” Mary snapped, sharper than she’d meant to.

“Jane would have known what?” the young woman in question asked, as she rounded the corner and stood in the doorway.

Standing up, Mary quickly turned her back to Jane, clutching the letter in her hands. She needed to collect herself. If she was going to address this at all, she wanted it to be on her own terms. Walking towards the window, she tried to think of something to say that would distract Jane.

“Is that Michael’s picture?” Jane asked, a fond nostalgia coating her tone.

Too late.

The younger woman sat on the bed and picked up the picture. “I’d forgotten about this.”

Mary could hear the smile in Jane’s voice. Somehow that only made her feel worse. “Did you need something, Jane?”

Tearing her eyes away from the picture Jane frowned at Mary. She was still faced away from Jane which just felt wrong. “Oh. Yes. Dinner’s ready,” she said, rising to her feet. She chewed at her lip not knowing what else to say, but not ready to leave. Something wasn’t right. “Mary?” she asked, her voice small and cautious.

Was she even allowed to call her that now? She’d never thought it unusual that everyone called her by her full name, but now it seemed odd. No one did that. The only person who had ever just called her Mary was Burt that she could remember.

When Mary didn’t answer, Jane took a step closer. She saw the older woman’s shoulders tighten and felt more confused than ever. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ll see you downstairs.” She dropped her head and tried not to feel too hurt when Mary merely hummed in response.

“Jane,” Mary called before the younger woman could leave. She turned to face her and watched as Jane first searched her face and then noticed the ribbon and letter in her hands.

“My letter,” Jane said in no more than a whisper. Her eyes jumped back to Mary’s. “You kept it?”

Mary shook her head. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally responding. “I never found it.” She took a step closer to Jane, still leaving half the room between them. “You mentioned it to John and…” She hated the way Jane’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh,” Jane said, cheeks flushing. She knew what the letter said in the general sense, but she didn’t remember it word for word and now she was scrambling to remember.

Since Mary had returned, she had been so careful about trying not to get attached again. The letter was a harsh reminder that Mary Poppins never stayed anywhere for long.

Giving over to the inevitable, Jane let out a heavy breath. “I can’t remember what it says,” she finally admitted, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I’m sure it wasn’t very pleasant. I was upset.”

Taking a step closer, Mary smiled. “It said the truth. Something I should have realized all along.” Another step closer. She didn’t want Jane to bolt, and she could see the idea running through her mind. “I didn’t realize,” she said gently, grasping Jane’s forearm lightly.

She didn’t even process Jane trying to talk her way out of an emotional moment. Jane trying to explain that she had just been a silly child. Jane trying to hide that she’d never quite gotten over her very first heartbreak.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said, dropping the letter and ribbon on the bed, and pulling Jane into her arms.

Jane tried to pull back, knowing that any moment she was going to fall apart, but Mary’s hold only tightened. She tucked her face against Mary’s shoulder and closed her eyes. They were nearly the same height now, but she still found a way to burrow into the embrace. She didn’t want to let go. She also didn’t want Mary to see her cry.

“I did love you and Michael,” Mary said, tilting her head against Jane’s. She felt the younger woman stiffen and smiled softly. She could still fix this. “I do love you,” she promised. As expected, the simple words broke through Jane’s walls, and Mary felt her shoulders begin to shake.

She’d longed to hear those words her whole life. There was no way she could hold back the emotions coursing through her. Sobbing against Mary’s shoulder, Jane snaked her arms around the older woman’s waist and let herself give into the comfort. She still knew Mary would leave. That Mary would leave her behind again. But that was a problem for another day. For now, she had this.

Mary holding her. Mary whispering words of tenderness and affection. Mary showing a vulnerability that Jane doubted many had seen before. She didn’t want to let go.

After several moments passed, she knew she should though. She didn’t want to seem too clingy. “The others will be waiting...” she said, pulling back slightly.

“I’m quite certain they can survive a meal without us, Jane,” Mary said offhandedly. She laughed at the way Jane’s eyes widened in disbelief. “They’ll be fine.” She tucked her hand under Jane’s chin and lifted the younger woman’s gaze to meet her own. “I think we need a chance to talk,” she said gently.

Jane nodded, but instead of talking she moved back into the warmth of Mary’s arms and closed her eyes.

And Mary was content to let her.

At least for a little while. “Jane?” Mary asked after a few moments, continuing to rub a hand up and down the younger woman’s back.

“Hmm?” Jane asked, sounding a bit worn out and tired.

“What was it that John wanted advice about?” Mary asked curiously.

“Girls,” Jane said with a sigh. “I offered to talk with him. He said he didn’t mean to offend, but he thought I’d be rather useless on the matter.”

“Why is that?” Mary chuckled.

Jane pulled back, shrugged, and crinkled up her nose. “Apparently, I’m awkward, get flustered easily, and am as clueless as he is. Whatever that means.”

“Indeed,” Mary said with a smirk, pulling Jane back against her.

**Author's Note:**

> *David Tomlinson (George Banks) did the voice for the umbrella parrot in the original movie, so I used his middle name, Cecil, for the parrot.
> 
> Also, if you want a quick refresher of adult-Jane completely gobsmacked about Mary's return, check out the [ gif](singinprincess.tumblr.com/post/184461917239/%EF%BE%89-%E3%83%AE-%EF%BE%89-%EF%BE%9F-requested-by-alicesloane13) TheOnlySPL made for me! You can also find a lot of other cool gif's on her tumblr for all the cool things!


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